


Trained

by Davechicken



Series: The Emperor and his Knight [28]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 06:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9372869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Poe has Kylo very well trained.





	

The Emperor’s throne is high-backed and wide, deliberately so. It’s not to make the inhabitant look smaller, but for purely practical reasons.

Reasons like: the Emperor likes to sit, reclined, one arm draped over the side. Sit, with his beloved pet straddling his lap, his knees pressed into the back of the seat, his calves braced against the sides of the throne.

Kylo is wearing his latest gift, and showing it off. The collar is stamped deeply with the Imperial sigil, and between each stamp is a jewel from a different territory they rule. Down from the collar, to the clamps that pinch his nipples hard. The fine chain triangles: collar to left, left to right, right to collar. One continuous loop, so any tug will tweak his budded flesh. 

Below, a simple belt lies at a rakish angle over his waist, the myriad chain loops bunched up between them, or trailing over his rump. When he sways, they slide over his skin and tinkle soft music, and Kylo loves the not-quite-covering-but-not-really-naked feeling it gives him.

Poe slips a finger into the chain between his nipples, twisting it around, pulling it taut. The slight sting makes him moan, and the hands clasped behind his back wring.

“Have you been a good pet, Kylo?”  


“I have tried, Master.”  


“Have you touched yourself?”  


“Only to pass water, Master.”  


“And your plug?”  


Kylo sinks down, rubbing his bare, but plugged ass over Poe’s thighs. “Still inside me, Master.”

“Good boy. You know what I’m going to ask you, don’t you?”  


He’s _hoped_. Of course he’s hoped. He _always_ wants to feel Poe in him, instead of a toy. He nods, tongue poking out past his lips, and sees the praise and adoration on his Emperor’s face.

“No touching your dick, pet. You’re going to come on my cock, or not at all.”  


It’s always harder, especially when Poe makes Kylo ride him, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t impossible by a long shot. His breath hisses out as he’s pulled to Poe’s face, and he whimpers: “May I… remove the plug, Sir?”

“No.” Poe grabs the jewelled end, slamming it in, twisting and angling it down to nudge his prostate.  


“Master!” Kylo yelps, his hips moving of their own volition, his cock pushing into the fine clothing of his Emperor’s belly.  


“Behave,” Poe growls, and yanks the toy out in one go.  


It leaves Kylo feeling impossibly open, and he whines in low hunger, his hands writing messages for no one to read. It’s a moment before he realises Poe’s unfastened his own pants, and pulled his (very, very ready) dick out.

Kylo stares in want, waiting for the tug to his chain. Up, up he goes, and he wobbles as he tries to keep his balance with his hands behind him. They’re not cuffed, but they might as well be. He feels the thick and solid rub of the cockhead slicing between his cheeks, and then it’s held still and the chain is tugged down. 

With great, great care Kylo sits himself onto Poe’s dick. It’s bigger than the toy, and much, much nicer. Silky, warm, and alive. It’s the most private part of his Master, and it’s only his. Jealous pride surges, and he clenches down over the intrusion, enjoying the fresh sensations that provokes.

“Move, pet. Dance for me.”  


Granted the approval, he starts to draw figure-eights on his lap, grinding at the apex of each swirl, lifting at the core. It’s not a solid science, but it’s a good way to warm them both up. Kylo lifts his hands into his hair, pulling the dark waves up and letting them slide through his fingers. The gesture makes his chest spread, and he groans his appreciation to the further tugs to his nipples. Lick-wet thumbs slide over them, and Kylo starts to vary his pace, running up and down the shaft, then bouncing, then slamming all the way in and flexing his waist. He wants to make it as good for Poe as he can, but he also wants to get himself off, if he’s able.

“Such a beautiful, exotic thing you are,” Poe croons. “So strong, so lithe. Dance faster.”  


Poe’s tone is only marginally affected, so Kylo grabs hold of the back of the throne for balance. Fingers locked, he starts to jangle the chains as he leaps up and down on the throbbing shaft, his toes seeking his soles as he chases his own bliss, too. If he’s good, he’ll be permitted the climax without it being spoilt, and he needs it. _Needs_ it.

Teeth on the chain, Poe’s brown eyes laughing up at him. Thumbs pinch his waist, making him ride all that harder. A knee cocked below, and the changed angle has him seeing stars. With effort, he can knock the head - or any of him he’s not wholly sure - against his prostate, and his body _screams_ at him. His cock sliding almost painfully over clothing, leaking precum all over Poe. 

“Master, Master - _please_?”  


“Not yet, pet. A little longer…”  


He’s lost the chain, now, and Kylo topples forward at the cock of his head. He offers his throat, and Poe starts to work suckling over his collarbones, his tongue tracing and his lips sealing. He’s going to carry a slash from shoulder to shoulder, and the pain of it is exquisite and beautiful. Lights behind his eyes, and Kylo _whines_.

“Come for me,” comes the whisper to his flesh. “Show me what a good little cockslut my pet is. Show me how much you worship my dick.”  


Kylo _howls_ as he does just that, maddeningly unco-ordinated bounces that push out messy spurts of his love. He’s making a mess, and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care, because inside his clutching hole there’s another, deeper gift. One he’ll want to lock deep inside, long after the sweat cools on his brow.

The Knight collapses against him, and Poe smiles his happiness into his neck. 

“Good boy. Such a good boy.”  


Kylo very much is. 


End file.
